The Ballplayer and the Songbird
by Anaastas
Summary: "Naturally, her fantastic voice was given a large amount of applause as the song drew to a close, and her appearance earned several catcalls and whistles, as well. The idol maintained her enchanting smile, bringing her hands in front of herself and bowing deeply. It was then that she and Leon came face to face." A 1920s LeoSaya AU ficlet


**A/N: **This ficlet is based off of Tumblr user bleachhime's prompt idea of a "20s gangster and flapper au with leosaya and he has sPATS". Unfortunately, I couldn't quite picture Leon as a gangster, but there are spats included! Enjoy!

"That's it folks! An honest-t'-goodness, out-of-tha'-park home run by the crowd favorite, Leon Kurtis!"

The stadium burst into a roar at the sound of their idol's name, and the redhead gave a blinding grin as he circled the bases, waving to the crowd and hamming it up as best he could. The opposing team grumbled and groaned, obviously sick of the all-star's constantly superhuman performance on the ball field. Every year, the Hope's Peak Grizzlies annihilated all the teams in the Summit Cup Tournament, and every year it was the outstanding carrot-top, Leon Kurtis, that carried them to do so. It seemed that the 1927 Summit Cup would be no different.

Flashing the largely-printed logo on the back of his jersey as best he could (as if people didn't already know who he was because of his flaming locks), the winning player jogged back into the dugout. His teammates assaulted him with familiar pats and slaps, accompanied by words of praise by the coach. As soon as his face disappeared from the view of the ecstatic crowd and booming announcer, however, his gleeful expression disappeared, replaced by a roll of his eyes.

Damn, this was just getting _old_. Everything was just too easy. A home run here, an out-of-the-park there, and _boom!_ Every damned team fell at his feet. There was no _challenge _anymore like when he was a rookie, no thrill of only just making the hit or leaping and barely taking the ball into his mitt. He threw down his cap, giving a curse under his breath as the rest of his team celebrated over their victory.

"Gettin' real old..."

* * *

"'Ey, Leo, ya' screwy bastard! Coach said we're supposed to be at practice on the double!"

Leon gave an irate click of the tongue, whacking his teammate over the head with his fedora. "Shut yer trap, Andy! Like I need any practice! You saw yesterday's game, didn't ya'? So beat it!" he snapped, scowling as the rookie scrambled to his feet and fled while cursing repeatedly.

Leon gave a heavy sigh, placing the crumpled hat on his head and spitting after him. So the poor guy was gonna get chewed out by the coach for his absence, what did he care? Leon had better things to do than sit around whacking balls 'till God knows when. It was a Friday night, for Pete's sake! He was a man in his prime; how could Coach expect the all-star Leon Kurtis to stay put when he could be out on the town?!

The redhead threw his hand in the air, pulling at his goatee in irritation as cab after cab passed him by. When one finally approached him, he slammed the door as he slipped inside, propping his freshly-shined shoes up on the passenger's side seat. He relayed to the driver the name of a local speakeasy the team's pitcher had raved about. As they approached the establishment, Leon leaned over to look out the window, grinning widely and genuinely at the club. "Summit's Cliff" was the official name of the place, although many referred to it as "Despair's End", a separate world where the gloomiest of crumbs could come and drown their worries. Leon had heard about its lively reputation, yet even after being in the city of Summit four years in a row for the Summit Cup, this was his first official visit.

Leon tossed a couple of bills at the driver and barely paid him any attention as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, breathing in the familiar reek of alcohol with enthusiasm. The old bat of a pitcher had mentioned that the place was quite obviously a bar, but the club had such influential owners that no bull dared to even think about busting the place. Thank God, because as he approached and opened the doors the stench of liquor and the blare of jazz music nearly overran his senses.

It was _perfect_.

So many bodies mingling together in one place, so much chatter would make any normal man uneasy. Anxiety, however, was not a word in Leon's vocabulary, especially with the constant crowd of teammates he endured. Perhaps being around the sweaty, noisy, bums had conditioned him to the point where it was a simple task for him to slip through the mass of people to the bar. He carefully picked out a seat where he could get a full view of the dance floor, crossing his legs and propping his head up on his fist. The other patrons of the Summit's Cliff glanced over at him, some with glazed eyes and others still quite attentive despite their empty glasses. His dress and appearance certainly didn't fit such a place, that was for sure. Now, with his fedora hung up by the door, his mussed red hair stood out like a sore thumb amongst a sea of more mediocre colors. The unorthodox piercings in his ears glinted even in the low light, and his dapper suit alone caught the attention of many. His pearly-white spats were quite stunning to the other patrons, as well.

"What can I do you for, Mister Egg?" the bartender sighed, seeming less than thrilled to be in the young ballplayer's presence.

"Anything'll do," Leon replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. The bartender rolled his eyes in response, mixing a concoction as his customer glanced out across the crowd. It was most definitely a lively club, just as the pitcher had described. The band was in full swing, sending even the drunkest of the partygoers into rowdy, fast-paced dances.

Leon smirked. Dancing had never really been his thing. Just because he was quick on his feet didn't mean that he could dance, that was for damn sure. It wasn't like there were any exceptional dolls on the floor, anyways. He didn't have anyone he needed to impress...

Boy, did she ever prove him wrong.

Leon almost didn't believe it was singing at first, to be perfectly honest. A live singer had some sort of crack or slip up or fault in their voice. The sound he heard, though, was ab-so-lute-ly perfect. His head snapped up and the ballplayer's blue eyes immediately locked onto the figure that stood in front of the band.

The owner of the beautiful voice had hair of a jet-black shade, although the lights glinting off of it gave it a somewhat bluish sheen. Her long locks had been rolled close to her head and pinned with expensive-looking, jeweled hairpins that closely matched the color of the white and beaded dress she wore. A long string of pearls hung from her neck, nearly blending in with her pale skin. And her eyes...her eyes were the deepest, most intense shade of blue Leon had ever seen in his life.

In no time, the redhead found himself on his feet, heading towards the stage. It was almost as if it was not of his one volition, as he moved as if he was in a trance of some sort. He halted at the edge of the stage, glancing up at her with a dumbfounded expression as the rest of the dance floor moved around him. She continued on with her performance without a care in the world, putting on a dazzling smile for all to see.

Naturally, her fantastic voice was given a large amount of applause as the song drew to a close, and her appearance earned several catcalls and whistles, as well. The idol maintained her enchanting smile, brining her hands in front of herself and bowing deeply.

It was then that she and Leon came face to face. Almost literally, in fact.

Their foreheads only inches away, the woman blinked in surprise with wide eyes as she looked him up and down. Leon opened his mouth for a quick line in hopes of capturing her heart, but surprisingly nothing came to him. He simply babbled quietly like an idiot, his face flushing a shade of red not at all far from the color of his own hair. The woman paused for a moment, perplexed at his strange behavior, but as he began rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, she brought a hand up to her mouth and gave a small giggle.

This only served to embarrass Leon more. Dammit, why couldn't he get a word out? There he was, in front of the catch of a lifetime, stuttering away like some schoolboy attracted to his teacher. She was even _laughing_ at him! Christ, how lame!

"You're quite the tough-looking guy, Mister Spats." She spoke up suddenly, so much so that Leon had not thought the voice to be hers at first. However, when he made eye contact with the performer once more, he found her gaze directed solely at him. A mischievous smile accompanied her amused expression, and Leon temporarily resolved to steel himself. No more futzing around, this was his chance!

"I'm real touched, smarty. Those beautiful eyes a' yours are makin' this bimbo melt, though." He replied smoothly, delivering the line without a second thought. It took all his might to keep from pumping his fist in the air in victory, however, as the expression on his target's face shifted without warning, as if she suddenly saw that he wasn't just any toy she could play around with and tease. Unfortunately for him, though, her previous demeanor resumed and she gave him a quick peck on the forehead, sending the poor sap into another round of flustered ramblings.

"Really? I couldn't tell~" she teased in a sing-song voice, the laugh that followed sounding just as musical as the phrase that had preceded it. Leon pouted as she raised to her full height on the stage again, giving a practiced wave to the crowd as the head musician exclaimed into his microphone, "Sadie Maize, everyone!"

As soon as the cheers for her died down, the songstress and her band started up again, her golden voice tormenting Leon as he made his way back to his seat with his tail between his legs. When he returned, the bartender was waiting for him with a strange gin drink, grinning from ear to ear. "Miss Maize turn you down, Mister Egg?" He taunted as the redhead took a long swig of the beverage.

Leon wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, his brow furrowing at the man. "Lay off..." He grumbled, lowering his head in defeat.

* * *

It took quite some time for the club to die down, but as the night wore on and the drinks came less frequently the crowd began to thin. Leon had planned to drink up a storm before trying again to catch the singer's eye, but a haze had settled over his mind as he did so, and when he came to his senses he was staring straight into an empty glass of gin.

"Looks like you're the last one here, Eggie." the bartender observed, his taunting formalities falling into outright name-calling, "Even the band's packed up and left. Can't take a hint?"

Leon blinked groggily, glancing over his shoulder at the barren stage. Sure enough, it had been stripped of all microphones, instruments, and performers, leaving no trace behind. So that was it, huh? She was gone, just like that.

The redhead grumbled as he forked over the money for the multiple drinks he had downed throughout the night, even adding in a slight tip despite the bartender's attitude. He slipped off of the stool, stumbling slightly as he headed for the door. It didn't exactly feel like he was drunk, but he was sure there was enough alcohol in his veins to dull his senses. Leon snatched his hat off of the lonely rack, opening the door and wincing as the bells on it assaulted his ears.

He continued mumbling despite the fact that no one was there, this time about the headache everything was giving him. The street was dimly lit, but he still pulled his fedora down over his eyes, scrunching them shut as he strolled along the sidewalk. Talk about an awful night out. Suddenly ditching practice for the club didn't seem like such a brilliant idea anymore...

"My, my, if it isn't Mister Spats!"

Leon raised an eyebrow, using his thumb to tip his hat upwards. There, waiting for him under the streetlight, was the singer, Sadie Maize. She beamed back at him, despite his sorry state, and gave a polite little wave of her gloved hand. Her hair had been let down save for a headband holding her bangs back, the rest of the black curls falling past her shoulder blades and beyond her black jacket's collar. Again, the lighting gave it that same blue sheen, illuminating her curious eyes, as well. If possible, she looked even more gorgeous out of costume on the street than she had on the stage.

Normally, at this point Leon would have started blurting out things and turning a bright shade of pink, but the gin in his system pushed him to heave a heavy sigh and shrug at her instead. "You here to razz me some more, doll?" he murmured in a dejected tone, as if rejection was already imminent.

"Heavens, no!" Miss Maize exclaimed, feigning shock at his statement. She gave a quick giggle at his exasperated reaction before placing a gloved hand on her hip. "I simply came to talk with you!"

Leon rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. There it went again. She was going to lead him on and make him slip up before dropping his sorry self. "Oh yeah, doll, I'm sure. How'd you know a bum like me'd be staggerin' out of the club at this hour, anyways?" he growled in reply.

Suddenly, the young woman's face became deadly serious, every feature hardening with frightening speed. "Well, you see, sir, I'm an oracle."

Leon blinked in surprise, giving her a skeptical look in return. However, she seemed to be quite sincere. "I doubt that, sweetheart. I don't believe in any a' that bushwa, anyways." he declared after a while, shrugging it off.

Miss Maize stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, lowering her gaze in defeat. "Rhatz! Most people fall for that trick..." she trailed off, stroking her chin in deep thought.

"Well not this ol' bum, doll. Now if that's all the games you're gonna play with me, I need to get some rest. Rejection ain't good for a fella's health, y'know?" Although it pained him to admit it, there was no way he was going to win with this girl. He was a skirt-chaser, but he knew when he was outmatched. He had a game in the morning, and the siren before him was just going to futz around with his feelings and mess with his head.

In one swift movement, Miss Maize looped her arm in his own, jerking him towards her. Leon gave a slight yelp, genuinely surprised at the action, and he glanced down at the beauty before him. There was that pearly-white smile again, sucking him in and grabbing at his heart. "Not so fast, Mister Spats!" she trilled, her delight remaining unfazed as he creased his brow in confusion, "Look here, I didn't mean to stir you up that bad, honest. How about I make it up to you?"

Leon shifted slightly, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks once more. Damn, even alcohol couldn't dull her charm. Seemingly oblivious to this, she continued on. "How about a little necking, hm? You were trying to be a tough guy back at the Summit, and I like that. I want to give you a second chance, what do you think?" she pressed.

Ah, dammit. Here he was, flustered and speechless again. _C'mon Kurtis, you lout! Pull it together!_ he chided himself before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. When he opened them, he gave her a wolfish grin, pulling her closer. "Alright then, little Miss Maize. I'll take you up on that offer. Just be warned, you're playing around with Leon Kurtis, now." he growled, silently overjoyed at the fact that he was able to land a solid line.

The black-haired beauty giggled at him, giving him a light peck on the nose and completely murdering his seductive demeanor once more. "Sadie Maize is a stage name, Mister Spats. Please, call me Sayaka." she insisted. Before Leon could blurt out a rattled reply, however, she laughed and dragged him by the arm down the street. The ballplayer furrowed his brow, his cheeks red as roses once more.

"Hmph, this is gettin' real old..."


End file.
